


home this christmas

by bechloehuh



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bechloehuh/pseuds/bechloehuh
Summary: Beca makes an important decision.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 39
Kudos: 212





	home this christmas

_“At Christmas, all roads lead home.”_  
― Marjorie Holmes

* * *

Her heart is racing as she turns the key in the ignition, her other hand gripping the steering wheel so hard that it quickly starts to ache.

As much as she wants to call Chloe—she’s wanted to for _so_ long now—to tell her that she’s changed her mind, she’s going to be there for Christmas, that she doesn’t have to worry anymore; she’d rather it be a surprise.

She thinks about the movies Jesse used to make her watch and she can’t help but laugh about the fact that she’s practically acting out her own version of the cheesy, cliché storylines that she used to roll her eyes at.

Her fingers shake as she reaches over to turn the radio on, not surprised to find that the snowstorm is interfering with the radio station so all she’s met with is static.

“Come _on,”_ she groans, putting her seatbelt on, resentment lacing her tone at the fact that she’s going to have to be alone with her own thoughts.

The drive is only supposed to be two hours, but it takes almost double the time due to both the traffic and the fact that so many roads are closed. She has to put the address into her phone to find the quickest way, and she’s not surprised when it shows that she’s lucky if she makes it before midnight.

In her heart, she knows that that’s way too late, but she can’t give up now. She knows giving up on Chloe will be a huge mistake, and she’s already made so many mistakes today.

The sound of Theo’s voice is still so present in her mind, yelling at her that if she leaves now, it’ll be the biggest mistake of her life; that if she leaves now, she won’t have a job to come back to.

She’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but she’s never been more sure that this needs to be done, and that she probably won’t ever get another chance.

(And sure, maybe she’s doing this on Christmas Eve because Chloe is always so much more happier at Christmas, so much more willing to forgive her for not being with her for the first Christmas since they’ve known each other.)

She smiles at the memory of their Christmases shared together over the years; the image of Chloe on Christmas morning ever-present in her mind. It’s like it’s real, almost. Like she can see her huge grin as she yells “Santa came!” as if she hadn’t spent all night putting the gifts under the tree, all of them labelled with the girls’ names.

Her smile only widens at the memory of everyone opening their gifts, excitedly telling the others what they got, and sharing hugs and bright, genuine smiles over morning cups of coffee.

She’s not really surprised that she starts to tear up at the memories. She simply wipes her eyes and reaches over for the radio again, sighing in relief when it comes to life with a little crackle.

**_“We hope, wherever you are right now, you’re having a nice, safe Christmas Eve. And if you’re driving, we hope―"_ **

The radio cuts off, and she glances at it, reaching over to smack it a few times.

**_“―and here’s another classic for you all.”_ **

**_It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas,_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Everywhere you go._ **

Her breath hitches, jaw clenching as a memory washes over her.

_“Is that the last of the boxes?”_

_“Yup. That’s all of ‘em.”_

**_It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas,_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Everywhere you go._ ** **_  
_ ** **_Take a look at the five and ten,_ ** **_  
_ ** **_it's glistening once again._ **

_Beca smiles, turning up the song as she watches Chloe carry the last box into the living room, her eyes following her every movement. Every step. Every clench of her biceps as she tries to hold the heavy box up without dropping it, the way her eye twitches as a bead of sweat drips down past her eyebrow, and the way she pulls the bottom of her shirt up to wipe her forehead after carefully placing the Christmas themed box on the sofa._

_And then the way she turns around, and a huge smile spreads across her face when she sees Beca looking at her._

_“Like what you see?” Chloe asks._

_She tilts her head sideways, pouting her lips, before she shrugs and says, “nah, not really.”_

_“Wow.” Chloe responds with a laugh, quickly faking a pout as she holds her hand up to her heart. “Words hurt, Mitchell.”_

_Beca laughs with a shake of her head as Chloe approaches her, wrapping her arms around her waist as soon as she’s close enough. The way Chloe looks at her never fails to make her heart race and her palms sweat, even after so long._

_The box of Christmas decorations are soon forgotten as Chloe’s lips press against hers in their kitchen—the kitchen in their house that they’ve bought together—with Bing Crosby serenading them on their way to the bedroom._

A part of her expects to turn to her right to see Chloe in the passenger seat, leaning over to turn the song up before joining in and unintentionally harmonizing perfectly with Michael Bublé—because _of course_ they had to play his version. 

_(No taste,_ Beca thinks.)

She’s grown used to seeing Chloe in everything, over the years. It’s just a given that she can imagine her so perfectly tonight, in the seat that she used to occupy throughout their whole time at Barden and for a long time after that.

It’s like second nature to her when she finally makes it past the welcome sign. She knows the way to Chloe now like the back of her hand—could do it with her eyes closed if she wanted to—and her heart races at the thought of seeing her.

She immediately finds herself smiling at the lights outside of the house, recognizing only one of them—the snowman in the window that Chloe had begged Beca to get because it was the last one in the store—but being delighted to see them all the same.

Pulling up behind Chloe’s car and switching the engine off, she’s not surprised to see that all the lights in the house are off. Her phone tells her it’s 11:30PM, and she quickly unlocks it to call Chloe to see if she’s awake.

* * *

Chloe’s pretty sure her heart stops when she sees the name pop up unexpectedly on her phone screen. She’s in bed, in the middle of texting Aubrey, but she doesn’t even hesitate to swipe across and answer, bringing the phone up to her ear.

“Beca?”

_“Hey.”_

She exhales shakily at the sound of her voice, her heart aching more than usual.

“Are you okay?”

_“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m great.”_

“That’s good, um...” she pauses, clearing her throat. “What’s… how’s work going?”

_“I’m not at work, Chloe.”_

She closes her eyes, chewing her bottom lip.

(She quickly stops, after the vision of Beca behind her eyelids swats her hand in her direction and tells her to stop.)

“Why? Is everything―”

_“―I did something really stupid, but I’m gonna need you to be open-minded about it, alright?”_

She doesn’t even need to think about her answer.

“Of course.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Chloe has to check to see if Beca is still there. She’s about to ask her if she’s okay when there’s a knock at the door.

Her heart races.

“Beca?”

She doesn’t say anything.

There’s another three knocks, much quieter this time. Chloe doesn’t even realize she’s out of bed until she feels the cold metal of the door handle in her hand, and she sucks in a quick breath before unlocking it and opening it.

Beca’s name comes out hoarse and quiet, and she slowly moves the phone away from her ear.

“Hey,” Beca says, hanging up the phone. It’s so very awkward—so very _Beca—_ that Chloe can’t stop her eyes from tearing up at the sight of the woman she hasn’t seen in months.

“What are you―”

“―I’m an idiot, Chloe,” she rasps. _“God,_ I’m such a fucking idiot but I quit my job and I’ve spent the past four hours driving here in this stupid storm because I need you to know that I’m still _so_ in love with you and I'm so, _so_ fucking sorry.”

Chloe’s grip on the handle only tightens.

_“Chloe, what are we doing?”_

_“We’re walking.”_

_“You know what I mean.”_

_“Um, I don’t―”_

_“Why are we still together?”_

_“Because we love each other.”_

_“Do we?”_

She thinks about the divorce papers stuffed in her dresser, unsigned by both of them.

The woman in front of her now seems so much more sure of herself than the woman in her memory. Her eyes are a little tired, mouth a little more down turned than usual—though, Chloe guesses that has to do with the tears that are in her eyes—but she looks so much more confident, so sure that she’s doing the right thing.

If Chloe had time to stop and think about it—to truly analyze it like she’s learned to do a lot with Beca over the years—she’d probably agree. She definitely would agree. Beca coming home to her is _always_ the right thing.

She doesn’t get a chance to try and voice that, though, because there are quick footsteps on the stairs behind her.

“Mommy?”

She turns around, watching Lauren run past her and into Beca’s waiting arms.

 _“Hey,_ bug,” Beca whimpers, dropping to her knees.

Chloe’s heart clenches at the sight of them; of Beca’s eyes squeezing shut, her arms wrapped around their daughter so tight that Chloe finds herself stepping forward and almost telling Beca to be careful.

She stops, though. 

Instead, she watches.

“I thought you were Santa.”

The sound of Beca laughing through tears makes her heart clench. “I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to see you and Taylor.”

“Oh. The _baby_ is sleeping,” she says, and Chloe finds herself smiling, amused that her daughter is still getting used to having a baby sister and refuses to call her anything but _baby._

“That’s okay,” Beca whispers. “I’ll see her tomorrow.”

“I didn’t think you was coming,” the five-year old says, voice laced with tears. The sound of it breaks something inside of Chloe, and she’s quickly stepping forward to put her hand on her shoulder and pull her away slowly.

“Let mommy in, sweetheart,” Chloe says. She’s looking at Beca when she says it. “Let’s make her some hot chocolate.”

* * *

Beca’s used to her heart aching at the thought of her family alone without her, but the sight of them together in what used to be _their_ kitchen makes her whole body feel like it’s shutting down. 

It pains her to keep herself from breaking down in tears, from dropping down onto her knees in front of Chloe and begging for her to forgive her for leaving them, from wrapping her arms around her and never letting go.

She looks around the house to distract herself but it only makes it worse, because there are still pictures of them scattered around. Their family trip to Portland two Christmases ago is displayed proudly on the wall in a white frame, with a picture of Taylor in another frame beside it.

 _God,_ how she’s missed holding her daughter.

She loses herself in all the memories, all the pictures Chloe kept up despite threatening to burn them in a drunk, heartbroken text that Beca had never had the guts to respond to. It’s all here, as if Beca had never left. As if Beca has just returned home from a business trip and isn’t, in fact, living miles away in a shitty one bedroom apartment on her own.

“Mom?”

She snaps out of her trance to see Lauren sliding a mug of hot chocolate across the table, smiling at the mountain of whipped cream on top of it.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

It’s been a couple months since she’s seen her daughter, so she’s not surprised to find herself getting a little emotional at how grown up she looks. She watches her little girl walk around the table, and she instinctively pushes back in her chair, hoping that she wants to sit on her lap.

Her jaw clenches and her heart pounds in her chest, but she immediately calms when Lauren holds her arms up for Beca to pick her up.

“Come here,” she hauls her up and sits her on her lap, holding a protective arm around her as she takes a sip of her hot chocolate.

“You like it?”

“I do,” she smiles down at her, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. She holds onto her tightly, reaching over to scoop some whipped cream up with her finger before swiping it across her cheek.

The sound of her daughter’s giggling is music to her ears, and she finds herself looking across the kitchen to see Chloe smiling at them, cradling her own cup of hot chocolate.

It’s a sight so familiar that she’s not surprised her eyes start stinging immediately.

“Mommy, why you crying?”

She looks at the girl in her arms, shaking her head.

“I’m just happy to see you,” she breathes out, wiping her eyes. “I’ve missed you all _so_ much.”

* * *

Chloe hates to break up Beca and Lauren’s reunion, but it’s past midnight and she can see her daughter growing more fidgety and tired as time passes. 

She doesn’t look at Beca as she takes Lauren out of her arms, knowing that if she does it’ll break her heart. She doesn’t ask Beca to stay either, but she hopes against all hope that she chooses to.

She settles Lauren in bed, tucking her in and passing Mr. Frog to her before smiling down at the fact that she’s already falling asleep.

“Get some sleep,” she whispers. “Santa will be here soon.”

“Oh,” Lauren yawns. “My wish already came true.”

“Yeah? What’d you wish for?”

“For mommy.”

She sucks in a breath, exhaling it shakily before leaning down to press a kiss to Lauren’s head.

“Goodnight, sweetie.”

* * *

Beca doesn’t move from her seat at the kitchen table, unable to find the energy in her to stand up. Her body is weak; the result of her long day at work, the drive here, and having to keep herself from breaking down in front of her family― ex-family. 

God, Beca doesn’t even _know._

Her fingers are trembling against the empty cup when Chloe re-enters the kitchen. She prepares herself for Chloe to yell at her for showing up unexpected and getting her daughter’s hopes up, or to quietly tell her to leave—Beca’s not sure which would be worse—but she’s surprised to see her pull a chair close to her and sit down slowly, as if afraid of what Beca is going to do.

Beca’s not quite sure what she’s going to do. She’s not quite sure of anything.

When Chloe’s hand reaches across the table and touches hers, she chokes out a sob.

 _“Oh,_ Beca,” Chloe whispers, before catching Beca as she falls into her.

Her face presses against Chloe’s shirt as she breaks down, tears staining red fabric and fists stretching it with how hard she’s holding on.

And she wants to apologize but all that comes out of her mouth is choked sobs and whimpers and she feels like she can’t breathe, but Chloe is there. Chloe is holding her up, like she has done for a long time now, and Beca can’t believe that she’s been welcomed back into her home so easily, like they haven’t broken each other’s hearts.

After her sobs die down, she pulls back and wipes her remaining tears away with the sleeves of her sweater, shivering at the feeling of Chloe’s fingers swiping at the tears under her eyes to help her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “God, Chloe, I’m _so_ sorry.”

“You should be,” Chloe tells her, before cupping her face. The pad of her thumb rubs softly over Beca’s cheek, before she leans in to press a kiss to her forehead. Beca’s eyes close immediately and she leans forward into her, holding her breath when Chloe’s lips linger for a moment. “I’m so tired of missing you, Beca,” Chloe whispers against her skin before pulling back. Beca opens her eyes. “So help me God, if you leave us again―”

“―I won’t,” she interrupts with finality. “I want you. I want _this._ I always will.”

_Do you want this too? Do you want me back?_

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“Right,” she nods, tangling her hand in Chloe’s. The metal of their rings clink together and they both look down. Beca's breath hitches. “You kept it on.”

“Always,” Chloe whispers back. “You did too.”

Her gaze drifts to Chloe’s face, lingering on her lips for a moment before she looks at her eyes. When their eyes lock, Beca’s hand itches to reach out for her.

Chloe beats her to it, though; her hand cupping Beca’s face again but this time, tracing her thumb over her bottom lip.

“We should definitely talk,” Beca says, her voice still hoarse from crying. “I want you to know that I’m in this 100%, Chloe, I’m―”

Chloe’s lips interrupt her and she immediately sinks into the kiss, reaching forward to wrap her arms around Chloe’s waist as Chloe pulls her closer.

The ache in her heart spreads around her entire body, and she’s quickly standing up, pulling Chloe with her. She’s not sure how long this will last—when or if Chloe will stop them—so she savors the moment, wanting to feel Chloe’s body against hers for as long as she possibly can. Their bodies press together, Chloe holding Beca’s face with steady, sure hands, as if afraid Beca is going to run again.

The thought only makes Beca pull Chloe closer, kiss her softer, love her harder.

She’s not going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! if you enjoy my writing, please follow me on [tumblr](http://bechloehuh.tumblr.com/)


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